Welcome to the Funhouse
by Cordite Quill
Summary: Strangely, Sarah decides to get her fortune read at a traveling carnival. But, the results are not what she expected.


**WELCOME TO THE FUNHOUSE**

"Cut the deck, Sarah. Are you listening, dear?"

Sarah blinked, focusing back on the kindly brown pair of eyes gazing steadily at her. The woman had set down a Tarot deck in front of her, face down, and was looking at her expectantly.

_This is silly, _Sarah thought, glancing at the deck. _Why am I getting my fortune read?_

Momentarily, she felt strange and her vision lightened. She had to blink a few times, until the small, warm tent came back into focus. A traveling carnival had set up in an open field that was on her commute to and from work. On a whim one Friday, she'd pulled into the parking lot, thinking if nothing else some cotton candy and a few rides might be nice. Instead, she'd come upon this small tent, near the carousel, and on a whim decided to have her fortune read. Inside, it was warm; the tent trapped the stuffy night air. Of course, the tent was decked out in rich indigo, blues, and purples; swathed in rich fabrics decorated with golden stars; dripping with quartz, crystal balls, and other fortune telling knickknacks. The fortune teller sat at a table draped in scarlet brocade fabric. She was short and plump, with a welcoming smile, heavily kohled eyes, and dark hair wrapped in a gold and teal scarf.

Why had Sarah thought it would be fun to pay the outrageous fee for a fortune telling? She couldn't remember what impulse had driven her, but here she sat.

Blinking again, she said, "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Cut the deck," the fortune teller said. What was her name again? Madam...something. She indicated the tarot cards with a flick of her heavily ringed hands. "You have to exert your energy on the cards in order for me to get an accurate reading."

Sarah reached for the cards, feeling their slippery backs against her fingers as she deftly cut the deck, making sure one stack was bigger than the other.

The fortune teller took the larger stack and placed it over the small one, then with quick flicks of her wrist and fingers, she began laying out cards on the scarlet fabric.

"For you, I feel a Celtic Cross would be the best spread," the fortune teller said.

_Madam Celeste, that was it!_ Sarah remembered in a sudden moment of epiphany, then immediately thought, _What a boringly clichéd name. _And what a typical Tarot spread. Sarah knew a bit about Tarot; she'd gone through a phase in high school where she'd read a lot of books about the occult. She'd even bought a deck of cards and practiced a bit. But, she'd lost interest when she'd left for college. In fact, now that she thought about that time, she'd only really become interested in the occult after that strange dream she'd had...

Madam Celeste was still talking, so Sarah forced herself to focus. "Now, remember that the cards don't tell us things that will _definitely _happen, only what could happen. They read the dynamic energies, the intent of the universe, around you at _this _moment and make useful predictions. Maybe they'll point out things you've thought of — things hiding in your subconscious — that you haven't faced yet but need to. Whatever the cards say, _don't be afraid of them_. They are merely guides serving to lead you to your higher abilities. Your higher purpose." She paused, maybe for dramatic effect. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Sarah said, impatiently.

Madam Celeste had placed all the cards out already, face down. There were four laid in a cross shape, with a fifth diagonally above the center card. Then, next to the cross, were four more cards laid in a column. She'd laid the cards out to face Sarah. She pointed to the first one, underneath the diagonal one.

"This is the present," she said. She moved the top card aside and then flipped the bottom card over. The Temperance card stared back, showing an angel with two cups standing over a stream. "Currently, you are being moderate in your life, particularly in your relationships or work. In work, you may not seek ambition or success, instead you are happy to sit back and let others find the glory. While in your relationships, you hold yourself back. You do not give into passion, perhaps because you do not trust yourself or your partners."

Sarah frowned. Not a very good way to start the reading. Yeah, she was an office drone entering data endlessly into Excel spreadsheets and taking calls, and yeah, she didn't have a boyfriend, but _holding back? _She wasn't holding back; she was still in her twenties, she was just trying to find herself. Find her groove.

"Of course, it's tough to know what the cards are focusing on with just the first card, so let's move on." Madam Celeste pointed to the card that had been on top and said, "This will be your immediate challenge, one that will come very soon." She flipped it over and smiled. "Ah, the Hermit."

Sarah leaned forward to see a card of an old man shrouded in brown clothing in a desolate wasteland.

"The Hermit indicates someone will be coming soon to teach you something about yourself. Since this is your immediate challenge, the problem comes in trusting the teacher and accepting the lessons he or she will impart on you. Eventually, you will need to learn in order to move on and become a greater version of yourself, despite the resistance you feel."

Sarah shrugged. "My very own Yoda, you mean?"

Madam Celeste merely smiled and said, "Perhaps." She pointed to the next card, her bangles clinking as her wrist moved. "This card," she indicated the one that made the right arm of the cross, "is for the distant past. It tells of events that have greatly shaped your present self."

She flipped the card over and nodded, as if it had been one she'd expected. "King of Wands." She tapped the card with a black lacquered nail. "An interesting card, considering it's from your past. Somewhere, somehow, you were forced to make a decision and go through a change, one that affected you deeply, spiritually. This card either heralds that — or that a person was the impetus for the change — or both."

Something inside of Sarah prickled. She stiffened as she remembered mismatched eyes glaring at her, offering her a crystal. She blinked the vision away, chastising herself. A dream; it had all been a pure delirium dream, vivid but fake. Yes, it had caused her to appreciate her brother, Toby, more. But, there was no king.

Madam Celeste was looking at her shrewdly. She said, "Do you know what this card represents? A man or an event?"

Sarah didn't reply, so Madam Celeste continued, "The King of Wands is a tricky man. Although wands show creative energy, his forte is not in dreaming up ideas. He likes to take an idea, a dream, and change the world around it."

Sarah frowned, but if Madam Celeste noticed, she gave no indication, continuing blithely, "He looks forward to challenges, enjoys the rush and adrenaline of difficult problems. And he'll never give up — he'll always look for a way to succeed. As a result, he's a natural born leader. Sounds like someone you knew?"

"No. And it's just a card," Sarah said, forcing her voice to stay emotionless.

"Of course, dear." Madam Celeste smiled. "Just cards — enlightening cards, but yes. Just cards. Shall I continue?"

Sarah glanced at the entrance of the tent. When she'd entered, Madam Celeste had buttoned it up, trapping the stuffy air inside, but also blocking out the light — to increase the atmosphere, no doubt. The heady perfume of sandalwood incense, and the warm air, was getting to Sarah, her heart had picked up speed slightly. She considered asking to leave. But why? Because a bunch of tarot cards were making her feel uneasy?

"Yes," she finally said, "please continue."

Madam Celeste said, as she flipped over the card that made the bottom arm of the cross, "This is the recent past." She paused, looking at the revealed card face, then said, "The Four of Swords. You've been enjoying a reprieve these past few years, one that is relatively problem-free and conflict-free. But this card," she tapped it, "promises that this rest period will not last forever. Sooner or later, conflict will come knocking. However, don't fear conflict; it may be a blessing in disguise. Something that can bring you everything you desire."

She moved onto the next card, the top arm of the cross, and said, "This is the best outcome possible for you. I know it's halfway through the cross, and we're already coming to an outcome card, but you need to know your goal. This is the _best _outcome, when everything else," she made a sweeping gesture to indicate all the cards, "happens as it should, in the best possible way, this card will show what can happen."

She flipped it over and smiled, making a humming noise of satisfaction, before saying, "The Ten of Cups, a very nice outcome indeed."

"What does it mean?" Sarah said, leaning forward despite herself. The card showed a couple arm-in-arm, looking joyously to the sky where a giant rainbow with golden cups arched across the sky. Nearby, children played and in the far distance was a house surrounded by green landscapes and water.

"Happiness," Madam Celeste said, simply. She tapped the card. "Your journey will end in success, challenges will be met and conquered, and your reward will be happiness, peace, and love. You won't have to worry about material things. But, of course, that happiness — if achieved — should not be squandered. Whenever achieved, happiness and love shouldn't be taken for granted."

_Of course my best outcome would be really good, _Sarah thought, watching as Madam Celeste moved toward the final, left-hand arm of the cross. _She can't very well flip over the Death or Tower cards and tell me horrible things will happen._

"This is the immediate future," Madam Celeste said, flipping the card over. She nodded, again, as if she had expected it. "The Two of Swords. There's a conflict coming soon, and one where you will find yourself equally matched against an adversary."

The card showed a woman sheathed in white, sitting in a chair, blindfolded, and holding two swords crossed over her chest. Madam Celeste tapped the place where the woman's arms crossed. "Notice her arms cross over her chest? Like a shield. If this card indicates the conflict will be a person, one of the things in conflict will be your own emotions. You will shield yourself from this person. Regardless, the real challenge will be in getting over your own issues. A lot of your grief will come from yourself – from your inability to truly see the situation as it is. From your hesitance to face the truth. You'll want to lie to yourself and you need to resist that urge."

Sarah said, "I don't think I lie to myself."

Madam Celeste grinned. "No one thinks they lie to themselves."

She moved on, now flipping over the lowest card on the column of four cards to the right of the cross. She said, "This card shows the factors which affect the situation, particularly now and in your immediate future, which will cause you to act a certain way. Perhaps this card will warn you not to do something, or perhaps it will enlighten you on a course of action." She glanced at the card. "The Moon." For the first time, Madam Celeste sounded surprised.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Something is not as it seems." Madam Celeste glanced back at the other cards, nodding to herself. "Considering your other cards, particularly your present and recent past, you've been enjoying a time of reprieve — avoiding challenges, avoiding difficulties, avoiding situations that would cause you conflict. You've been lucky so far, there's been nothing to overtax you." Madam Celeste paused, dramatically, and said, "This reprieve is not what it seems."

"What does that mean?"

"I think the cards are telling you that you are traveling a road without knowing its destination," Madam Celeste said, her expression serious, her gaze darting between the cards and Sarah. "Such ignorance cannot continue indefinitely. Or perhaps that are forces gathering around you – maybe against you. Things will be changing for you very soon. Your calm life may be upended."

"Wonderful," Sarah muttered.

"Ah, now, now, dear. Remember the Best Outcome card. Not all challenges are bad, some bring great rewards." She smiled enigmatically, then said, "I don't understand you, Sarah. You didn't always shy away from challenges."

Sarah frowned. Again, she felt strange — light-headed. "What did you say?" she asked, but her mouth felt strangely slow, like the words weren't forming correctly.

However, Madam Celeste seemed to understand. She looked up and said, "I said, 'I don't understand why people always shy away from challenges.'"

"No, no you didn't..." Sarah put a hand to her forehead, which felt hot and sweaty.

"Yes I did, dear."

"C-can you please put out the incense? I think they're giving me a headache."

"If you'd like." Madam Celeste stood, walking over to the table set up at the back, where a few incense sticks had been arranged in a small, ornate vase. She grabbed them, turning them around and snuffing them out at the bottom of the vase like they were cigarettes.

For some reason, the smell of sandalwood flared, particularly potent. Sarah's stomach somersaulted and she held back a whimper of discomfort. She heard noises, chittering and giggling, and jerked her gaze to the tent's entrance. But, it was firmly closed and the tiny bits of light that escaped weren't blocked — no one stood on the other side. And yet, she kept hearing those soft, high-pitched giggles.

Her gaze darted around the dim-lit tent, but she saw nothing besides Celeste, who was now brushing her fingers on her skirt, having finished snuffing out the incense.

"Did you hear that?" Sarah asked as Madam Celeste sat back down.

"No. What?"

"Giggling." Sarah rubbed her temples. "I heard giggling."

Madam Celeste gave her a strange look. "No, I heard nothing." She paused. "Three more cards. Shall I continue?"

Sarah pressed her fingertips into her temples, trying to stop the flare of pain. "Might as well," she muttered.

Madam Celeste said, "The next card is the External Influences card. It represents people, events, or forces beyond your control which will affect the final outcome." She flipped the card. Sarah stared at a wheel, with mystic symbols on it, and strange mythical animals around it. The wheel, itself, floated in the clouds. She stiffened as Celeste commented, "The Wheel of Fortune. Interesting. It looks like Destiny is the very force beyond your control. Whatever happens, whatever changes you face, are meant to happen."

Celeste ran a fingertip across the border of the card, thoughtfully. "Do you fear change, Sarah?"

"I…" Sarah licked suddenly dry lips. She resisted the urge to knead her aching head again; heard the little giggles in the corner of the tent and wished she'd never met Madam Celeste.

She could still smell sandalwood.

Suddenly, Madam Celeste grabbed the second to last card and with a jerk of her hand, she flipped it over. She hissed through her teeth and said, "The card that represents your hopes and fears. Yes, you do fear change, don't you?"

Sarah stared at the brightly printed card. The Seven of Cups. It showed a silhouette of a man, his arms rose with indecision, facing seven cups. In each cup was something different. She noticed one was overflowing with jewels, another with a crown of laurel leaves, but the one her gaze fixated on was the snake. It coiled out of the cup, its forked tongue out as it tasted the air.

"_Say your right words…" _Sarah jerked around. The whisper had been so close, as if someone had spoken in her ear.

"…Temptation," Madam Celeste was saying. She hadn't noticed Sarah's sudden movement.

"What?" Sarah turned back to her.

"This card denotes a difficult choice you're going to have to make," Celeste said, impatiently tapping the card. "Change means new choices. New temptations. What you finally choose will have consequences, so you must be careful."

She paused, her kohl-rimmed eyes and enigmatic gaze trained on Sarah steadily. "Are you ready for the last card?" she asked. "The Final Outcome, the way all this," she made a sweeping motion over the Celtic Cross spread, "could end?"

"Yes," Sarah whispered, barely breathing, feeling her heart pick up pace.

Madam Celeste slowly flipped over the last card, milking the moment of all its potential suspense, then released her breath. "The Ace of Cups." She looked up, smiling at Sarah. "A good card."

"Why? What does it mean?" Sarah stared at the card, which showed an overflowing cup balanced on the palm of a hand, which came out from a swirling cloud and was above a great lake filled with flowering lily pads.

"The start of a relationship," Madam Celeste said, raising her eyebrows. "Perhaps of love. However, when we take in account all the other cards," she nodded toward the now face-up cards in the spread, "this is also a warning card. You can realize all your hopes, dreams, and desires if you want to, Sarah. But, you're going to have to listen to your intuition — you can't be afraid of what challenges you may be facing. Go with your gut, not with fear and uncertainty. Don't avoid difficulty. And the rewards," Madam Celeste sat back, nodding, "they will be a thousand fold."

The words settled on Sarah, heavy like a mantle. For a few moments, the tent was silent and heavy. Outside, the dim noises of merriment — of visitors enjoying the carnival's attractions; in the tent, however, the silence was weighty and full of meaning. Sarah glanced at the cards, her gaze resting on the Wheel of Fortune, in particular. _Destiny, _the woman had said, and for a moment Sarah could almost _feel _the shifting of gears as some outside mechanism exerted force in the background. She could almost _feel _things changing.

_What are you talking about? _She blinked, mentally shook herself from whatever spell Madam Celeste had woven over her psyche. _She's just a hack fortune teller in a traveling carnival you paid eight bucks to. She randomly flipped over cards and made generalizations about your life. "Change is coming"? Get real, of course it is; everyone's life changes constantly._

Right, time to leave. Sarah smiled and said, "Thank you."

Madam Celeste smiled back, nodding, and then stood, going over to the table where the incense was kept. Sarah pushed back her chair, grabbed her purse, turned, and suddenly felt a hand touch her forearm. She turned back and Madam Celeste pressed something into your hands.

"A gift," she said, and then quickly added, as Sarah began to look down, "Please don't, not until you are a distance away."

"Um…okay." Sarah dropped the item in her purse, then awkwardly fumbled, grabbed her wallet, and took out a couple of dollars. She held it out to Madam Celeste. "Thanks."

"Of course, dear. Any time you're feeling lost, I hope you seek me out." She took the dollars, deftly folded them into a tiny bundle, and slid it into her shirt and out of sight.

Sarah was about to point out that it would be difficult to find a fortune teller who was part of a traveling carnival, but then thought better of it. Maybe she was just contracted through them but lived in the area. Whatever, Sarah didn't care; she didn't plan on ever seeing Madam Celeste again.

Instead, she smiled, said a final goodbye, and pushed open the tent flap. Immediately, the slightly humid, but much cooler New England air hit her and she took a deep, thankful breath. She could feel the slight sheen of sweat on her brow cool under the breeze.

She went to the food area a good distance away, until only the tip of the tent was visible in the crowd, and bought a soda, gulping it down quickly. She hadn't realized how thirsty she felt until the cool liquid splashed against her tongue. Then, she remembered the gift. She dug into her purse, grabbing up the item. It felt soft in her hands and when she looked at it, she wasn't surprised to see a small, brocade pouch, about the size of a silver dollar. Weird, did Madam Celeste give gifts to all her customers? She would have expected some sort of business card inside, except for the size, and when she meshed the pouch between her fingers, she felt something small and hard inside.

She pulled the drawstring open and shook the pouch over her cupped palm. Something glinted as it fell out and then she was staring at a ring. It was a simple, gold band but had a garnet stone at one end.

Sarah felt shock as she recognized it. No, not just a simple ring, one she hadn't seen since…

_The dream._

She gasped, stiffening, memories washing over her as she saw, in her mind's eye, a strange creature with a bird for a hat.

She heard her voice say, frustrated, _"I'm not getting anywhere at the moment."_

Then the hat replying, _"I, uh, I think that's your lot. Please leave a contribution in the little box."_

She felt the cool slide of metal on her finger, a ghost memory of sensation. Her fingers clenched involuntarily around the ring, and she heard, _"I guess I can spare this."_

"_You didn't have to give him that."_

"Hoggle," she murmured, whirling around. A name she hadn't thought about in a decade. No, more than a decade.

But, of course, Hoggle wasn't there; only a few children clutching their parents' hands and looking at her oddly, waiting in line for the cotton candy. She flushed, turned away. Then, she looked for the tent. How had that fortune teller gotten her hands on this ring? How had she known to give it to Sarah? _How had she known?_

Sarah had every intention of asking her. She scanned the field for the tent, but couldn't see the indigo cloth. Frowning, she retraced her steps, going past the carousal. The cheers and cries of children filled her ears and beyond that…did she hear giggling? Her gaze scanned the crowds, desperately trying to find the source of the high-pitched sound, which was so out of place here.

A flash of green at the edge of her vision disappeared beneath the feet of carnival-goers. She tried to track the movement, but quickly lost it in the crowd. A shiver ran down her spine and she whirled, quickly moving away, trying to find the tent.

But it was gone. The field was empty. The grass trampled by visitors — or maybe a tent, she had no way of knowing.

Something brushed against her foot and she reared back. Oddly, the thought that sprang into her mind was _Goblins! _Instead, it was just a card. She bent, picking it up, and flipped it over.

The Wheel of Fortune.

She gasped, disbelieving. Heard the fortune teller's voice say, _"Everything you know will change, and soon."_

Sarah let the card go, and it fluttered away on the wind. She looked up, numb, uncertain what this all meant. Clutched in her now sweaty palm was the garnet ring; she'd dropped the brocade pouch somewhere. She heard the giggling, then heard voices whisper, _"Say your right words, Sarah." _Except she didn't know what they were.

"Leave me alone," she muttered, under her breath, ignoring the worried glances people threw at her. And then, on a whim, she slid the ring on her finger.

For a couple of moments, she stared at the way the sunlight glinted off the garnet. It really was a simple ring; something a teenager would wear. But, it still fit her finger perfectly. The metal was warm after having been clutched in her hand.

The whispering and giggling stopped abruptly. A tingle began on Sarah's neck; the back of her hairs slowly stood. Someone was watching her. She slowly turned, scanning the crowd around the carousel, and saw something slide and weave along the people. She saw a flash of wheat-gold hair, a flash of dark clothing, and then…mismatched eyes smiling challengingly at her.

She gasped, turned fully, and in that little movement he was gone.

_No, no, _this couldn't be happening. It had been a dream! _A dream!_

Her mouth opened, her lips formed the beginning syllable of his name, but she stopped herself as if speaking the name out loud would make him appear in front of her.

Hazily, almost in a trance, she moved toward the carousel, her gaze scanning the crowd.

_Jareth. The Goblin King._

She heard an arrogant voice say, scornfully, _"Turn back, Sarah. Turn back."_

She shook her head, shook away the memory, and followed the line of the crowd. But he was gone.

And then she heard the flapping of wings. Looking up, she saw a large, snow white barn owl swoop low among the carnival. Several people pointed, made cooing sounds of appreciation and wonder. A barn owl out during the day in such a crowded area? Yeah, Sarah wasn't that stupid. She remembered hearing wings flapping at the end of her dream, when she had been laughing with her Labyrinth friends, and when she'd ducked her head out of the window, she'd seen something white fly away.

An owl.

The last thing she'd seen in her dream. The next thing she remembered was waking up in the morning to an empty room, and knowing — despite the pain it caused — that the whole thing had been a glorious, short-lived dream.

Before Sarah had really thought her motivation through, she was following the owl's flight. It stayed low, as if it knew she would follow. She couldn't help herself; she kept her eyes on its large wingspan, only sparing glances in front of her to ensure she didn't run into anything or anyone. The owl led her through the carnival, forcing her to weave between throngs of people. Bringing her away from the center of the carnival, to its outskirts, where a few lone, makeshift buildings stood.

There was barely anyone here, and that was because the three buildings were closed. One, in the shape of an old, Victorian mansion, had a sign painted in curling calligraphy that proclaimed: _Haunted House! Do you dare walk through this ghostly place?_

Another building was shaped like a crazy castle and had slides coming off it. There was a ladder that led to the top, where the slides started, but it was quardined off with yellow caution tape and a sign affixed in front said: _CLOSED FOR REPAIRS._

It was the building next to this that the owl landed. Sarah stopped, stared. The small, makeshift thing was a warped looking house, curvy and askew, with black blotches for windows; asymmetrical, fake shutters; and a large, curvy door. Cautionary tape was over the doorway, and the sign in front of it said: _Closed until further notice._ Across the top of the door, painted into the wood, were plump neon letters proclaiming: WELCOME TO THE FUNHOUSE!

"Oh hell no," Sarah muttered, looking back up to the top of the building.

The white owl was gone.

Something was caught against the sign in front of the fun house. It fluttered futilely against the wooden post, trying to get around it and continue following the breeze. Cautiously, Sarah walked up the few steps and bent, picking up item. A card. She flipped it over and hissed through clenched teeth.

The King of Wands.

She let the card fall from suddenly numb fingers, looked through the warped doorway, and saw…mirrors. A hallway of mirrors, which curved at the end. A _labyrinth _of mirrors, she suddenly realized. A goddamn, old-fashioned funhouse.

"No," she muttered, clenching the edge of the doorway.

"_But if you turn it this way and look into it, it will show you your dreams."_

"Yeah, no," Sarah muttered. And yet, she knew she'd enter that strange carnival ride. When had she ever been able to resist temptation? When had she ever stopped just before danger?

She took a few hesitant steps inside, and suddenly the hallway dimmed. She whirled, and to her horror, saw the door had disappeared. _Great, really, I should have expected that, _she thought, slowly pivoting on her heel. _Only way out now is forward._

The first hallway of mirrors was just as any funhouse should be. They showed her own reflection twisted and warped. One where she was short, squat, and fat; one where she was skinny and tall; one where it distorted mostly her face, which actually creeped her out quite a bit. But when she turned the corner, everything changed. In front of her the mirrors became bigger with elaborate frames, and when she stared in the first one, she was wearing a beautiful white gown. Her hair, which had been shoulder-length, was now long and pulled back into an elaborate coif, woven with pearls and gossamer lace.

Sarah hesitantly reached up, watching as her reflection's white gloved hand followed the motion, then touched her hair. She gave a relieved _whoosh _of a sigh as she felt her shoulder-length hair, still loose around her neck.

Something flashed in the back of her reflection — something bright golden and yet dark, too. By reflex, Sarah whirled around, but of course nothing was there. She turned back to the mirror, still seeing her reflection in the princess gown.

_Yes! _That's what it was! The princess gown from her dream.

Slowly, Sarah moved to the next mirror. Her Nikes made soft _thud _noises on the concrete floor. But, the reflection in this mirror was even more intricate. Not only did she wear the princess gown, but the background had changed. Now, behind her reflection was a macabre masquerade ball. The people behind her wore twisted, grotesque masks; ornate, but strange gowns; powdered faces; bright red lips. They laughed at her, pointing, talking behind their fans, chortling with glee.

Sarah turned around, again, but again there was nothing behind her except the backs of the previous hallway of mirrors. When she turned back, the ball was still going on behind her reflection.

Her reflection looked annoyed. Her mouth was a grim line, pinched with irritation, and her eyes were flashing. Did they look more hazel than usual? Like a strange inner light was causing them to glow? She leaned forward, trying to figure it out, when she saw something slide through the crowd behind her.

She wouldn't have noticed — there were a lot of people at this ball — except he was going against the crowd, moving gracefully through the twirling dancers. She immediately recognized his strange haircut, his black armor. His gaze was firmly on her reflection's back, and his thin lips were twisted in a little, self-satisfied smile. She gasped, saw her reflection-self stiffen.

Before she could stop herself, she whispered, "Jareth."

And to her surprise, just before he disappeared at the edge of the mirror, his gaze slid away from her reflection — and she could swear he was looking at _her_. Then he was gone, past the edge.

"Wait," she murmured, walking down the hallway, trying to catch sight of him again. "Wait!"

On one side, her Nikes continued their dull _thuds_, but on the other side, she could distantly hear the _click-clack _of silver-shoed heels. Her reflection kept pace with her, even though the gown was bilious and she really should be grabbing the fabric and lifting it up. Her reflection's gaze was scanning, desperately, just as surely as Sarah's one gaze was. She kept seeing a flash of golden hair disappear behind a crowd of people, or a mismatched gaze blocked by a grotesque mask, or black fabric disappearing from the edge of the mirror.

"Wait!" she said again, frustrated.

She didn't think about where she was going, just followed the hallway of mirrors — just following the small flashes of the Goblin King.

"Stop!" she said, now, picking up speed. The chortling courtiers were a blur now.

And then she turned and came to the end of the funhouse. And there was no door, just one huge mirror that went from floor to ceiling. It was framed in wrought iron, which twisted in an intricate, leafy pattern.

Hesitantly, she walked up to it and gazed into it.

Standing there, next to her reflection, was Jareth, the Goblin King, in his most intimidating black armor, which contrasted with his hair, making it look like woven gold. Grasped lightly in his fingers was one of the grotesque masks, this one with a large nose.

Sarah pressed a hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath, and watched as her reflection mimicked the move. Silvery bracelets sparkled on her reflection's wrist, but of course when she looked down, they weren't there.

She looked at Jareth's reflection and said, "You."

Jareth's mouth twisted into a mocking grin. "Me."

"Why?"

"Why not, precious?"

Sarah made a frustrated noise in her throat. "I'm beginning to think my dream wasn't really a dream after all."

Jareth chuckled. "Just beginning to think that, are you? Sarah, Sarah, what shall we do with you?"

The reflection mimicked the words her lips formed, although no sound came out. Instead, it was Sarah that said, "So is reality then reality?"

A look of surprise passed across the Goblin King's face. "What a good question," he said. "Maybe you are not hopeless after all, precious." He considered her words for a few seconds, then said, "Does it matter?"

"Of course it does! I need to know!"

"Hm," Jareth said, thoughtfully, then grinned in challenge. He changed his stance, planting his feet as if getting ready for an attack, but instead he extended his hand with invitation gleaming in his eyes. "Then, come through."

"What?"

"If you need to know, then step through and find out for yourself."

"I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because I can't!"

In the background, from far away, Sarah could hear a strange, shrill noise. It was distracting her; she glanced away from the mirror's reflection for only a moment — saw her reflection-self once again mimic the move. Caught Jareth step back, cast a _hungry _glance her way before smoothing his expression back to that mocking mask. The hunger hadn't been nice.

Sarah turned back and said, "Do you hear that?"

"What, hear what?" Jareth sing-songed.

"That noise! It's getting louder!"

Jareth's expression didn't even change. He merely said, "Come through, Sarah. Come through."

"I told you _I can't!_ It's impossible for me to step through!"

"Impossible?" His eyebrows rose. "Impossible, tra la la?" He moved to the other side of her reflection, gently trailing his fingertips along her bare shoulders, and for a moment Sarah could swear she felt the touch. But, she didn't react, and so neither did her reflection.

Jareth winked at her. "So change."

Sarah reared back, the words so close to what the fortune teller had said. She felt like her nerve endings were raw. She felt _exhausted_. And what was that damn noise? That shrill, unpleasant noise causing her headache to flare up again — why wouldn't it stop? Why could only she hear it?

"I don't know how!" Sarah answered, angrily.

Jareth regarded her sadly. "What a pity. What a pity."

"Jareth —"

He shook his head, leaned closer to her reflection, half-whispered into her reflection's ear: "Step through and find me, Sarah."

And then the noise became blindingly loud, and whatever Jareth said next was lost within that piercing shriek. With a cry, Sarah opened her eyes, flailing in her bed. The noise came from the alarm clock, which cheerfully proclaimed that it was six o'clock and time to get ready for work.

With a groan, Sarah slapped it off. She fell back in bed, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, then muttered, "What a strange dream." Not as strange as the other one, the one from her teen years, but still…pretty strange…

She felt something poking her shoulder and with a tired sigh, shifted, digging around underneath her until her fingertips felt something feathery. With a frown, she pulled the object out from underneath her and her eyes widened as she looked at the white feather she held in her fist.

* * *

_**Hello faithful readers! **__I know, it's been a while, and I'm sorry for the delay. Real life and all that. All my free time went into personal writing projects - and trust me, there wasn't a lot of personal free time! Anyway, I've had this one-shot languishing in my story folder for a while. I wrote it in one day, edited it in another, and as I edited it I began to worry that it was...well, not very good. I was worried that the first part was slow with all that Tarot card stuff. I was worried that the story, itself, was cliched. So, I put it aside with the idea to edit it. And then never did. So, I'm putting it up here before it becomes too dusty and cobweb-y! Hope you enjoy it, even a little!_

_Please remember to leave a contribution in the little review box. Let me know what you think (all comments/suggestions/constructive criticism welcome!)._

**_And as always...I own none of the original characters._**_ This work of fanfiction is purely for entertainment and non-profit purposes, but please do not copy or distribute it!_


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